


Fight Blackmail with Blackmail

by fanboysstillexist



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, eduardos an artist in this one, idk i think its cute, saloonatics, tw some homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanboysstillexist/pseuds/fanboysstillexist
Summary: Eduardo blackmails Edward and Thompson so they steal money for them, but Juan feels bad about it so he gives Edward and Thompson blackmail to use against Eduardo.
Relationships: Edd/Tom (Eddsworld), Eduardo/Jon (Eddsworld)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Fight Blackmail with Blackmail

It’s quite a lovely night. Twinkling silver lights glow above them, highlighted by the pitch black a lack of sun causes. These nights are a constant for everyone in the town of Spit bucket, including a certain detective and sheriff.

“I quite liked that one.” Edward says, walking side by side with Thompson, “I felt it had a nice flow from scene to scene, and the character’s romance wasn’t forced at all.”

“I liked the horse.” The two men paused and looked at each other. Then chuckled and continued walking up the steps to their house. 

“I liked him too.” Edward takes out the keys and fumbles, looking for the right one, “I was surprised he turned out to be the killer in the end. Even I didn’t find any signs for that.” 

“I think they just wanted ta shock the audience. The people who made it aren’t ‘xactly what I’d call geniuses.” 

“Oh, and I am?”

“Nope.” Thompson says, then directly after Edward breaks out in giggles. 

“Oh, how sweet. My eternal love.” Edward places his hand on Thompson’s shoulder and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Make it a real one.” Thompson teases, and pulls Edward down by the collar, kissing him on the lips. 

“Oi, Thompson!” Edward says, after they’ve pulled apart, “Someone might see us!” He smiles as he opens the door, and the two walk into their home. 

It would’ve been a perfect night, had Juan not overheard it from the other side of the house. Had Juan not taken pictures of their kiss with his new camera.

~

A fist slams onto the counter, and Eduardo smirks as Thompson turns to face him in his chair. Thompson tackles him, pinning him to the floor. 

“Lotta nerve ya got, ta come back here.” Thompson stretches his arm toward his desk, trying to reach the handcuffs. “Why are ya smilin’, anywho? What’re ya planning?”

“I know about you.” Eduardo said

“What’re you-”

“I know about you and Edward.” Eduardo says, and with that, Thompson freezes. “Disgusting.” He adds for unneeded clarity. 

Gritting his teeth, Thompson lets go, and they both stand up. He leans against his desk, trying to stay cool. 

“What do ya mean?” 

“My partner in crime took photos of it.” Eduardo takes a few out of his pocket and shows them to him. Thompson bolts to grab it but Eduardo holds it high above his head, and grabs Thompson’s arm. 

“Give ‘em ta me. I’ll do…I’ll do anything.” Thompson says, with his eye wide open. Eduardo’s lips curls. He crosses his arms.

“Anything? Is that so?” 

~

“Man, I sure do love being a bandit!” Eduardo says, lying on top of a literal pile of gold coins and paper money. 

“Yo también.” Marco says, cleaning a mirror with his shirt. 

“What?” Eduardo asks. As Eduardo complains about Marco only knowing Spanish, Juan tinkers with his camera on the other side of the room.

Recently, when a professional cameraman moved to town, wanting, “…a breath a fresh, countryside air…”, he left his door unlocked. The three bandits saw their chance and ransacked the place, taking everything they could see. The cameraman was devastated, obviously, but for Juan it was one of the best things to ever happen to him. He got his very own camera! And a good one at that; the latest model. 

“Pose!” Juan says, taking the camera in both hands and pointing it at his partners. 

“Juan, you don’t need to take pictures of everything!” Eduardo says, sitting up and crossing his arms.

“Lucky I do though! ‘Else we wouldn’t have all this stuff!” Juan takes the photo. Eduardo runs a hand through his hair, and turns to Marco, continuing his mildly racist one-sided conversation. “I’ma head out and take more-”

“Bye.” Eduardo says, still looking at Marco.

Juan rolls his eyes and walks out. He wanders here and there, without a real destination in mind. 

A blue butterfly in the corner, just about to land on a leaf. A cactus with pink flowers dotted across it. A house with two men talking through the window, which probably wouldn’t turn out too good, considering the time of night. Time had flown by, apparently. You wouldn’t really be able to see anything other than a clouded swirl against a black backdrop. 

Wait. The two men were the British man and the Sheriff! And they were talking…Juan could just about make out what they were saying.

“I just feel so guilty.” Edward says, running a hand through his hair, voice tainted by exhaustion. 

“Don’t be. They’re savages, the lot of ‘em.” Juan frowns as Thompson says it. 

“Maybe we should just…let them tell the public.” A pause as Thompson stares with wide, judgmental eyes. “I just think-”

“What? You think ruinin’ our lives is the right answer? How?”

“How could it not be? I know it’ll be rough-”

“Rough? We’ll get killed! You already know how harshly folks treat people like us! Or were the bandits ruining our lives not enough evidence for you?” 

“Well, my apologies if I don’t like stealing from the bank!” 

“And I do?!” 

As they continued arguing, Juan started to break into a cold sweat. 

Cops don’t like stealing. This is information he already knew, of course, but…they were doing it anyways. To keep each other safe, even though they hated it. 

Juan had told Eduardo and given him the picture because he knew that would get the gang more money. But seeing how it affected them, how it broke apart something special and private…Juan didn’t need all that gold, and neither did the others. 

But Juan isn’t as stupid as he looked. He knows just asking them wouldn’t work at all. His mind wandered a tad, as it tended to do, and he thought of the phrase ‘fight fire with fire’. The thing to fight blackmail with was more blackmail, clearly. But what would convince Eduardo to give the pictures back?

Juan’s blood ran slightly cooler. The sketches. Juan, of course, still had them all. He knew what the right thing to do was. He ran back to base.

Back at base, Eduardo and Marco were already asleep. Juan doesn’t bother walking on his tip-toes, since both men are heavy sleepers. He uncovers two floorboards in the corner where he slept, and gingerly pulls out the box, opening it. 

Eduardo used to be an artist until he stopped, along with other things, drawing. He’d draw whatever he wanted to remember. And boy, did Eduardo want to remember Juan exactly. The slope of his jawline, his crooked smile, his soft yet calloused skin. 

So he drew him, filled entire sketchbooks with Juan and him. Holding hands, kissing, other things. Anything he could think of. At first they were drawn few and far between, but when Juan thumbed through one of the books and said he loved them, it seemed like Eduardo had a dip pen attached to his hand.

But it didn’t last. Eduardo’s dad found the books, and he wasn’t exactly okay with what was in them. The two were just younger than 18 when that happened. A few years later, after Juan decided to become a bandit, they met again. Juan went to hug him but got shoved away. Eduardo acted like he had never met him before. It hit Juan in a soft spot, but he went along with it, knowing whatever Eduardo’s dad did to him wasn’t the greatest. But Eduardo was a different person, harsher, meaner. There were still times when his old self would come out, but it would so quickly be stifled Juan would wonder if he imagined it.

Juan looks in the box and pulls out a thin pad of paper, about 20 or so pieces. Juan, throughout the years, had probably seen these a million times, but that didn’t stop him from looking again, blushing at his past, at the feelings he used to experience. At the boy he once loved, and the man he wasn’t sure he knew. Each drawing, each stroke of the pen, was carefully done, the signature in the corner of every one.

He put the pad in his coat pocket, closed the box and put it back in the floor, as if nothing has been or ever was there. He looked across the room at Eduardo. He hadn’t been the nicest, or least hypocritical person lately. He deserved this. 

On his walk back to the sheriff’s house, he thought about their time together, all those years ago. The jokes, the spats, the love. Juan had loved Eduardo, and these drawings had love written all over them. 

He wondered if Eduardo even remembers making them, or if he forced himself to forget.

~

There’s a knocking on the door, and Edward gets up first to answer it.

“Hel-” Juan shoves past him and walks over to their dinner table, placing the sketchpad on it, face down. 

“I’m really sorry, I am. So, so here,” Juan points at the pad, his other hand clenched in his pocket, and walks back towards the still opened door, “tell Eduardo that if he puts the film out you’ll put the drawings out. I really didn’t, I really didn’t mean to, to hurt you guys.” 

Thompson, a little taller than him, blocks the exit.

“What’re you sorry for, boy?” Thompson says, balling his hands into fists.

“I…I told Eduardo about you guys.” Juan added quickly, “But I’m making it right! I gave you fire to use against his fire!”

“He’s going to burn our house down?” Edward asks, with more disbelief than fear.

“No, no, I-I just meant…” 

“You’re helping us get back at him?” Thompson says and squints.

“Yeah, ‘xactly!”

“Pardon, but I find it hard to believe you’d help us when you’re the one who got us here in the first place.” Edward glared. 

“Yeah, and how’d we even use these? It has his signature, but he could just say he didn’t draw them and that it’s another Eduardo. He ain’t famous or nothin’, no one’s gonna recognize it.” Thompson says, walking over to the table and inspecting them. He raises his eyebrows. “Though, if he did make ‘em…”

“Then…I could vouch for you, ‘cause I saw him draw them. Eye witness, right?” Juan tries to bargain.

“…The man in these drawin’s is you, bandit.” Thompson says, slowly. “Ya know that’d-”

“Put me in danger. I’m okay with it.” Juan stands straighter. “I just feel…guilty. I shouldn’t’ve let this go so far.”

“You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” Edward says, and crosses his arms.

“Yeah, I know, but…I dunno. I guess I just did it because it’s us against the world, and I wanted to win.”

“That’s incredibly childish.” Edward rolled his eyes.

“So ya try an’ ruin our lives? We could lose our jobs, or get murdered over this!” 

“I’m sorry.” Juan says, and inches toward the door. “But just…when ya show Eduardo that, don’t tell him I gave it ta you guys.” 

“Hey! We ain’t done yet here-!” Thompson started, but Juan had already started running out the door. 

Edward began looking over the drawings . 

“These are actually…we could use these.” Edward says.

“I think it’d be kinda-”

“We would never actually publish them, of course.” Edward says, closing the door. “But we could simply bluff. I mean, they held it over our heads, why not return the favor?” 

“I like the way you think, Ed.” 

“Thank you dear.” He kisses him on the forehead. “Do you want to go fuck up that bastard’s life now, or shall we wait ‘till sunrise?” Thompson, slightly taken aback by Edward’s swearing, smiles.

“Hmm…I reckon we should wait until the next time we meet up for demands. Then spring it on him.” Thompson grins. 

“Swell idea, love.”

~

A knock on the door.

“Oh?” Edward asks, “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Eduardo says from behind the door.

“Oh, right!” Edward opens the door, “Come in! Come in!” 

“…Why are you bein' so pleasant?” Eduardo glares, crossing his arms, “Ya know what? I don’t even care. So, what I want you two-”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Edward slams the door shut. 

“Oh?” Eduardo laughs, “Then, I guess I’ll just have to-” Edward whips out a certain drawing pad. 

“What?” Eduardo’s eyes suddenly widen, fixing on the familiar brown sketchbook, and he takes a step back. Just as he’s about to pounce, Thompson jumps on him, pinning him to the floor again. “What’s-”

“Hand over the pictures, or we release these,” He waves the book just above Eduardo’s head, “to the press,” Edward states, standing over him.

“What do I care what the public thinks of me?! They already hate me!” Eduardo thrashed against the man, but Thompson had a strong grip.

“Maybe they do, but will fellow criminals? What’ll they think of ya then?” Thompson spits, “No more help from fellow gangs.”

“…How did you even-”

“Juan.” Edward and Thompson say at the same time. He might’ve helped them in the end, but he did start this whole thing, after all. Some anger was still harbored for the short man.

“Ugh!” Eduardo yelled. “…Fine. I’ll give you the pictures by sundown. But destroy those in front of me first.”

“That’s not how things work around here.” Edward crouches down, “You give us the pictures first. We wouldn’t lie to you - we’re cops after all. You’re more likely to con us then vice-versa.” 

“…Fine. I’ll do it.” Eduardo says, “Just don’t tell anyone. I’m not like that anymore.”

“…Go.” Thompson lets go of Eduardo and he walks out of the house, frazzled and angry. Betrayed.

~

“Hey, Juan?” Eduardo says through gritted teeth. Marco knew this tone; he walks out of the base and goes for a quick - or long - stroll. 

“Uh, yeah?” Juan focuses his eyes intently on his book, not looking up from it. He swallows.

“May I have a word?” Fists shaking with white knuckles, Eduardo glares with all that’s left in him at the man across the room, staring at his book in the corner. 

“Sh-sure. Just, um…just…” Juan’s hands start shaking. His eyes scan for Marco. He isn’t here. No one to help him if things get out of hand.

“JUST WHAT?!” Eduardo stomps his foot on the ground and storms over to Juan. Juan stands up, but it’s too late to move. On second thought, perhaps the corner of the room wasn’t the smartest place to hide. Eduardo lifts him by the collar and slams him against the corner. Juan’s trapped. He cowers, pressing himself further into the wall. “YOU…” 

Tears prick Eduardo’s eyes. Oh, how he hates it. He squeezes his eyes shut, his teeth grind together. 

“You ruined everything.” Eduardo seethes, “You’ve always ruined everything. You ruined. My. LIFE!”

“Hey! I didn’t - I didn’t ruin your life!” Juan defends himself, “Your dad did!” 

At that, Eduardo’s blood turns to freezing cold slush. He drops Juan and takes a step back.

“You…” Eduardo begins visibly shaking now, and crosses his arms as a short-hand to hugging himself. He shakes his head, “I-”

“We could’a ran away together, just you ‘n me! I swear, ‘Duardo, you were the best thing that’d ever happen ta’ me.” Juan gripped his arms, “But then you had to leave, and when we met again, it was like you were a different person!” He took a step forward and gestured that he wanted to hold Eduardo’s hands. Eduardo puts his hands in his pockets, then crosses his arms again, taking a step back. “You were - we were so happy back then. I guess I kept them because I wanted to remember that for a while.”

“Maybe you were happy,” Eduardo paused for a second, “but I wasn’t! Maybe I never wanted you, maybe you just heard what you wanted to hear!”

Juan narrowed his eyes at him. “I know what I heard. I know all those times we’d talk for hours about our future, about anything, about each other.” He clenched his fists, “You didn’t say platonic things to me, bunny.” 

“…Whatever I did when I was a punk-ass kid means nothing,” He tried to keep his voice from shaking, “you betrayed me, and went behind my back to the cops! What we said to each other years ago is worthless, so get out of my face about it.” 

“No, I won’t, because I refuse to believe those dozens of books filled with drawin’s don’t mean nothing to you, because throughout the years, they’ve always meant somethin’ to me, whenever I’ve looked at ‘em.”

“…what?” Eduardo asks. 

“Uh…the drawin’s?” Juan squints. “I still look at ‘em all the time.”

Eduardo sucked in a breath at the realization. He couldn’t believe he had kept them. All of them. And still cared to look.

“Did ya really think I’d just throw ‘em out?” Juan says to fill to gap in conversation. “They really are pretty-”

“Just, shut up.” Eduardo runs a hand through his hair. He’s blushing, slightly. Then, in a much softer voice that resembled defeat more than gentleness, “…Please.”

Juan opens his mouth to say something, but cuts himself off. He almost offers a hug, but stops himself there, to. He hears Eduardo mumble something about his 'habit of drawing biting him in the ass twice', and he pauses, and decides to sail into uncharted territory.

“What your dad did ta you must’a been awful. I…” Juan can’t quite find the right words, “I don’t know how to make it better, but…can I try?” He stepped forward and again held out his hands for Eduardo to take. Eduardo just stared at them with a fixed gaze. “You-you don’t have to if you, if you don’t-”

Eduardo pulls Juan into a hug, and before either of them really have time to process it, Eduardo pulls out. 

“…Sorry for, uh, hurting your head.” Eduardo looks at his feet. He adds softly, “I’ll…try to not get so angry in the future.” 

“It’s fine -”

“No, it’s not.” Eduardo massages the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”

“…I accept. I just want you ta be happy.” Juan says, and smiles, “Like when we were kids.”

“I don’t think I can ever be that person again.” Tears fall from his eyes just as fast as he can wipe them up, “I just can’t. Not after everything.” 

“Well…” Juan says, “then I’ll settle for happier.”

**Author's Note:**

> how do you italicize words on this site? tell me if you know, because i think some of the words lost their punch without the italics


End file.
